42. Iris – Lauren
42
IRIS
LAUREN
W e finally pull apart, though I feel the loss of Dakota's warmth immediately. There's an awkward moment where we both just stand there, not quite meeting each other's eyes.
"Do you want to come in?" I ask, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.
Dakota nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, I'd like that."
I lead him to the kitchen, hyperaware of his presence behind me. The house suddenly feels different with him in it, like it's holding its breath. The soft ticking of the clock on the wall seems louder than usual, marking each second of this surreal moment.
"Can I get you something to drink?" I offer, then immediately freeze. The half-empty wine glass on the coffee table catches my eye, and guilt washes over me. I quickly move to hide it, my hands shaking slightly. "I mean, I have water, or soda, or..."
"Water would be great," Dakota says softly, and I can hear the understanding in his voice. His eyes follow my movement, but he doesn't comment on the wine.
As I fill a glass at the sink, I can feel Dakota's eyes on me. The cool water over my hands helps ground me, and gives me a moment to collect my thoughts. When I turn back, he's leaning against the counter, his posture relaxed but his eyes intense.
"So," I start, handing him the water. Our fingers brush, and I feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. "How was the tour?"
A smile breaks across his face, genuine and bright. "It was... incredible. Challenging, but incredible."
I nod, thinking of the video I was just watching. "I actually just saw a clip from one of your shows. From a couple weeks ago, I think?"
Dakota's eyebrows raise in surprise. "You were watching our videos?"
I feel a blush creep up my neck. "Yeah, I... I wanted to see how you were doing." I pause, gathering courage. "You looked good up there. Really good. Happy. Focused."
"I am," he says, his voice low and earnest. He sets down his glass and takes a step closer to me. "I've been working hard. Not just on the music, but on myself. On my sobriety."
The word hangs between us, full of weight and promise. I can smell his familiar scent - a mix of soap and something uniquely Dakota. It takes all my willpower not to close the distance between us.
"How long?" I ask, barely above a whisper.
"Thirty-eight days," he replies without hesitation. "Not that I'm counting or anything," he adds with a self-deprecating smile.
I feel tears prick in my eyes. "I'm proud of you, Dakota."
His eyes soften, and he reaches out, his hand hovering near my face as if he wants to wipe away a tear but isn't sure if he's allowed. "I couldn't have done it without thinking of you. Of us."
My heart races at his proximity. There's still so much to discuss, so much uncertainty. The envelope sits on my desk, a ticking time bomb of potential truths. But at this moment, all I can think about is how right it feels to have him here.
"Dakota, I—" I start, but the words catch in my throat. How do I express everything I'm feeling? The pride, the fear, the hope, the love?
He waits patiently, his eyes never leaving mine. In them, I see a reflection of my own emotions - uncertainty, yes, but also determination. And underneath it all, a love that never really went away.
"I missed you," I finally manage, the words feeling inadequate but true.
Dakota's smile is soft, tender. "I missed you too. More than I can say."
As we stand there, my eyes inadvertently drift to my desk in the corner of the living room. The envelope sits there, partially hidden under a stack of nursing textbooks. Dakota follows my gaze, his body tensing slightly as he spots it.
"Is that...?" he asks, his voice trailing off.
I nod, swallowing hard. "Yeah. I haven't opened it."
Dakota takes a deep breath, his fingers tapping an anxious rhythm on the countertop. "Do you want to?"
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications. I bite my lip, considering my words carefully.
"I don't know," I admit. "Part of me wants to know the truth, but another part..." I hesitate, looking at Dakota. "I'm more worried about how it might affect you."
His brow furrows. "What do you mean?"
I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Dakota, I... I knew Miles had been unfaithful before. Not at the end, but earlier in our relationship. The possibility that he was with someone else when he died, it's painful, but it's not entirely shocking."
Understanding dawns in Dakota's eyes. "But for me, with Chloe, it would be completely unexpected."
I nod, watching his face carefully. "Yeah. I guess I'm worried about how you'd handle that, if it turns out to be true."
Dakota is quiet for a moment, his gaze distant. When he speaks, his voice is soft but steady. "I've had a lot of time to think about this. About Chloe, about our marriage, about who she really was."
He looks at me, his eyes clear and focused. "The truth is, I don't know if I ever really knew her. Not completely. And while the idea of her being unfaithful hurts, I think... I think I've come to terms with the possibility."
I feel a mix of relief and sadness wash over me. "How did you get there?"
Dakota runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so familiar it makes my heart ache. "It wasn't easy. But part of my recovery has been about facing hard truths. About myself, about my relationships. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that Chloe and I... we weren't in a good place long before she died."
He takes a step closer to me, his voice low and intense. "Lauren, whatever's in that envelope, it doesn't change how I feel about you. About us. If anything, it might give us both the closure we need to move forward. Together, if that's what you want."
My breath catches in my throat. "Is that what you want?"
Dakota's eyes meet mine, unwavering. "More than anything."
I nod, feeling a surge of courage. "Then I think we should open it. Together."
Dakota reaches out, taking my hand in his. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver through me. "Together," he agrees.
As we move towards the desk, I feel a mix of anxiety and anticipation. Whatever truths that envelope holds, we're about to face them. And for the first time, I truly believe we can handle it.
Because we're doing it together.